


of prat kings and bad decisions

by Aesthetic_Apples



Category: Merlin (TV)
Genre: Angst with a Happy Ending, Crying, Episode: s05e09 With All My Heart, Everything is Beautiful and Nothing Hurts, Gaius is a Good Dad, Gwen is the best and im in love with her, Implied Sexual Content, M/M, Magic Revealed, They get together guys, but in my defense, but then it gets better Because I Can, i know other people have written this concept, i totally used kilgharrah as a plot device but he deserves it, i was unaware of that fact until after i was done with this, i'm sorry if i'm stepping on anyone's toes, kind of, ok it hurts a little, season 5 was hard on me ok i deserve this, theres, this happens in a universe where everything turns out ok
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-03-17
Updated: 2021-03-17
Packaged: 2021-03-26 14:22:04
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,558
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/30107334
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Aesthetic_Apples/pseuds/Aesthetic_Apples
Summary: “Aren’t you forgetting something?”Arthur turns to look around. Touches his hand to the sword hanging at his side. Looks confused.“Don't think so.”Typical, thinks Merlin. The stupid prat couldn’t find his own head if it wasn’t attached to his body.And it’s not his best moment, but. He doesn’t want to cry. So he focuses instead on the anger rising in his chest.Merlin shakes his head, adjusting the belt on his dress. “Nevermind.”...Or- My take on the s05e09 scene where Arthur forgets Merlin.
Relationships: Gaius & Merlin (Merlin), Gwen & Merlin (Merlin), Gwen/Lancelot (Merlin), Merlin/Arthur Pendragon (Merlin)
Comments: 14
Kudos: 215





	of prat kings and bad decisions

**Author's Note:**

> Lancelot is alive (though he doesn't actually appear) because I came here to ship Merthur and give Gwen all of my love and support, and I need Lancelot to make that happen.
> 
> also this was like 20 pages and i cranked it out with minimal mental energy meanwhile my 10 page neuroscience research paper is glaring at me from across the room, pray for me y'all

“Aren’t you forgetting something?”

Arthur turns to look around. Touches his hand to the sword hanging at his side. Looks confused. 

“Don't think so.”

_Typical_ , thinks Merlin. _The stupid prat couldn’t find his own head if it wasn’t attached to his body._

Arthur, however, probably cares enough about his head to at least _look_ for it. Clearly not a sentiment attached to Merlin, and isn’t that just… the damned _last straw_ is what it is. Merlin does everything for Arthur, would do anything to keep him safe, and honestly, Merlin tries not to think about how he really deserves at least _one_ thank you for all that he's done (it puts him in a Mood, which all but destroys his ability to be polite with Arthur, and he has plenty to do without being forced to muck out the stables as punishment _thank you very much_ ), but after all this time he really figured Arthur would _notice he’s gone._ Or, you know, at the very least, not just up and _leave without him_.

And it’s not his best moment, but. He doesn’t want to cry. So he focuses instead on the anger rising in his chest.

Merlin shakes his head, adjusting the belt on his dress. “Nevermind.” 

Call him petty, but Merlin’s had it. And Arthur is already turning to leave, not even sparing him a second thought. So. Merlin has every right to lose his mind a little.

_Lets see how long he lasts without me,_ he thinks, _let’s see if he even notices._

It’s been a long damn day, he’s exhausted from holding an aging spell ( _and_ performing complex magic on top of it), and he’s probably got some sort of head injury from his fall yesterday. So when Gaius inevitably gives him The Eyebrow for his crimes, he has a fair amount of excuses.

Mordred ( _and why is_ Mordred _here, and Arthur would probably notice if_ Mordred _was missing, and-)_ gives him a Look, but Merlin just looks right back. Maybe, if he were thinking clearly, he’d be too afraid to leave Mordred alone with Arthur, but Merlin has decided he’s not thinking clearly. He’s giving up this whole “thinking clearly” business. He deserves a little insanity. As a treat. Considering all the shit he has to put up with, he really can’t be blamed. In fact, it’s almost surprising it's taken him this long to come unhinged.

Let Mordred kill Arthur, he doesn’t care. 

(Lies). 

Arthur apparently doesn’t need him. Well he doesn’t need Arthur either. 

(Double lies). 

But he’s angry. And hurt. So he meets Mordred’s confused stare wordlessly until-

“ _So… do you want me to say anything... or_ ,” Mordred’s voice fills his mind, making him jump. 

Damn, he almost forgot they could communicate like this. Sometimes he wishes he had someone around like him, someone with whom to commiserate, to cover for him when his magic strays a little too far into the realm of the obvious… Mordred certainly _could_ be that person...

Well, no, he hates Mordred. Because Mordred is bad. Sinister and whatnot.

So scratch that.

Merlin brushes a few strands of grey hair from his face. “No. If he doesn’t remember, he clearly doesn't need me. Gods know I could use a few days off anyway,” he answers aloud.

Mordred doesn’t quite succeed in hiding an eyeroll at Merlin’s dramatics, but he shrugs in acceptance and turns to follow Arthur and Gwen out of sight.

“Kids these days,” Merlin mutters, before realizing that he should probably de-age himself because he’s actually becoming a bitter old crone on the inside, too. 

Ducking behind the rocks in case the party decides to come back (though the most dramatic part of him insists that he should transform out in the open, that if they came back now they’d see and- what? Appreciate him? More like execute him for his magic. And the years of lies.) and when he’s done he realizes… he’s free. He can take a day off. Do whatever he likes. 

He’d like to rest. Sleep. It’s been a long week. A long few months, really. If he thinks about it (and he tries not to) he hasn’t relaxed since Mordred came to Camelot.

Obviously theres a small part of his mind- the one that’s been keeping Arthur alive all these years (the one that loves Arthur) that says “what’s the point of all that work if you’re just going to let him die now, you know he’ll get into trouble on his way home, he always does,” - that’s gnawing on his conscience, but his mind can stuff it. He’ll let someone else worry about Arthur this once. 

_Someone else? Like Mordred? Yeah we’ll see how that goes,_ says that small part of his mind.

“Shut up,” says Merlin.

Great. Now he’s talking to a voice in his head.

Well.

At least this will make an excellent addition to the case he’s compiling, entitled _Please Don’t Kill Me Gaius, I Temporarily Misplaced My Marbles._

Anyway.

If he wants to do anything, first he’ll have to get off this mountain. He’ll also have to do it without alerting Arthur and the gang, which is a formidable task- they’re probably on high alert, considering Morgana might still be lurking around somewhere. He could wait and leave tonight when they’ll have made their way down to the tree line and are asleep, but to be honest he doesn’t really want to stay up here that long. Not to mention, he might fall off another cliff, and there would be no one to save him. His head is still throbbing from last time.

There _is_ a solution. 

A large, scaly, cryptic solution who is not going to appreciate being summoned to help Merlin act like a petulant kid, actively endangering Arthur by leaving him alone with Mordred. And Gwen. 

(He must admit, Gwen is one of the most badass people Merlin has ever met, but Mordred has magic and she's still recovering. So.) 

But he’s not thinking about Gwen right now, or Mordred, and definitely not Arthur. 

He’s _not_.

...

He calls Kilgharrah. 

“And why have you summoned me here, young warlock,” Kilgharrah asks, alighting on a rock gracefully, and sounding like he already knows why he has been called. And does not approve one bit.

Merlin doesn’t care what Kilgharrah does or does not approve of. His feelings are hurt and his head is hurt and he just needs… he needs a break. 

“Take me back to Camelot.”

There must be something in his voice, because for the first time in all the years Merlin has known him, the dragon doesn’t argue, or say something cryptic yet vaguely judgemental, or try to persuade him to change his mind. In fact (in what is, quite frankly, a shocking change of character), Kilgharrah simply bends his neck, allowing Merlin to climb on board before stretching his great wings and taking to the sky.

…

Merlin trudges back from the clearing where Kilgharrah set him down, taking the least used corridors of the castle in a desperate attempt to avoid contact with another human being.

(If anyone were to ask, he’d say he’s avoiding any witnesses, because it’ll be hard to explain how he got back before Arthur. But no one is going to ask because he’s not going to see anyone. 

The truth is something more like ‘I’m avoiding people because if I have to speak with someone, my already fragile mind will probably shatter completely.’ So he’s being a little dramatic. So sue him.)

He’s acting like those evil sorcerers he’s always thwarting, peering around corners and walking on tiptoes, and he knows he’d look pretty ridiculous, were there anyone around to see. 

There’s not. Anyone around to see, that is. Merlin would know if there was, because he keeps checking behind him (and in front of him, and above him, _just to be sure_ ) like a madman.

Maybe he _is_ going mad. Gaius has said that stress can weaken one’s mental state...

_Gaius_. 

Gaius is going to murder him. That is, if the sheer power of The Eyebrow doesn’t strike him down where he stands first. Gaius has the knowledge and the connections to make sure no one ever finds his body, and _oh gods nobody is ever going to know what happened to me_ -

But despite the mental list he’s building on all the ways he might die by his mentor’s hand, he doesn’t slow in his steady march to Gaius’s chambers. He’s absolutely _dreading_ Gaius’s reaction to his recent string of terrible decisions, but Gaius is the closest thing he has to family here in Camelot- really the closest thing he has to a father in his life- and he needs that right now. So much that he doesn’t even pause before pushing open the door to the physician’s chambers.

Gaius looks up from his work and opens his mouth to speak-

But he must see something on Merlin’s face (Merlin wouldn’t be the slightest bit surprised if looks worse than he feels- which is to say _like shit,_ and it’s probably quite obvious that he shed a few tears on his ride back to Camelot), because Gaius just stands up and opens his arms silently.

Merlin crashes into him and clings like Gaius is the only thing anchoring him to this plane, his carefully constructed emotional dam breaking, leaving him openly sobbing into his mentor’s shoulder. 

Well, this wasn’t the plan. But when did planning ever work out for Merlin anyway?

It feels like he’s fracturing. He’s been holding these emotions back for _so long_ , he’s been teetering on the edge of his breaking point ever since he saw that vision of Arthur’s death, and letting it out… well it doesn’t feel _good_. Nothing feels good anymore, his whole world is Arthur, Arthur who forgot him, Arthur who is going to _die_ , and he’s losing his mind trying to prevent what will be ( _might be,_ he’s constantly telling himself- he can't give up yet, he _refuses_ to give up) the thing to ultimately destroy him. But finally letting all of this out, wailing his anguish into Gaius’s robes is a _long_ needed release. Gaius silently strokes Merlin’s shuddering back.

“I’m so sorry Gaius... I know I shouldn-'' Merlin sobs, but Gaius cuts him off with a soft _hush_ , gently leading him up to his room and tucking him into bed. He presses a bottle into Merlin’s hand, waits for him to drink, then closes the curtains, filling the room with a soothing darkness.

“Rest now Merlin, it is clear that whatever has happened can wait until the morning,” Gaius says, brushing Merlin’s hair from his forehead with a cool hand.

Gaius sits on the edge of Merlin’s bed as he cries until he has nothing left, curling around himself into a tight little ball, part of him wishing he could disappear altogether. He can feel the effects of the potion Gaius gave him making his eyelids heavy, and his breathing slows. 

Exhausted, he falls asleep to the feeling his mentor’s hand carding through his hair.

…

When he wakes up, reality comes crashing down immediately.

_Well, shit._ He knew he couldn’t avoid the consequences of his actions forever.

Arthur. Is going to be arriving back in Camelot today. And now that Merlin’s not so blind with anger and devastation and that unique flavor of heartbreak that comes with being in love with your best friend, he can see quite clearly that. Well. He definitely didn’t think this through. 

That much was obvious yesterday, of course. But now that his brain is back from it’s little vacation to gods know where, it’s becoming increasingly obvious that he’s going to have to do some Agravaine-level deception to get out of this one. (Perhaps investing in some hair oil to channel his inner creepy-lying-uncle-secretly-in-league-with-Morgana would help? _Focus,_ Merlin.)

Okay. Starting with a list of unexplainables, questions he’s sure Arthur will ask when he arrives back in Camelot:

  1. How did you get back here before us _Mer_ lin?
  2. Did you even _try_ to escape _Mer_ lin?
  3. Why didn't the Dolma say anything?
  4. Why didn’t Mordred say anything?



Okay. Okay, okay. He’s got this. 

As for question one, well, he can just wait a while after Arthur returns to show his face. Easy day. Okay.

Question two: simple enough, he’s sure Arthur simply sees him as a completely incompetent fool anyway, and the fact that he will be (when the question is inevitably asked) standing there talking to Arthur will show that he got away eventually. So, “ _I had to wait until she was asleep to get away, yes that’s why I didn’t catch up to you, yes I know she was just an old woman, and_ yes _I know I’m such a girl,_ ” should work as an excuse. Okay.

Third question. “ _I don’t know how the mind of an old woman-hermit-sorcerer works, why would you ask_ me?” Easiest excuse yet. This isn't so bad. Okay.

Finally, question four is… tough. 

First off, it’s got to be pretty obvious to Arthur at this point that Merlin _really_ doesn’t like Mordred. Even aside from the whole _not caring if Mordred dies/encouraging Arthur to kill Mordred_ thing. Merlin is a _little_ mean to Mordred a _lot_ of the time, and at this point he’s pretty sure everyone has noticed. Merlin is a good liar (well- _sometimes_ , triple goddess knows he’s come up with some absolutely unbelievable horseshit in his time with Arthur), but he’s never been great at hiding his feelings. And his feelings for Mordred are just just below _I’d like to hold your head underwater_ and just above _I’m going to cut holes in all of your socks_. (Merlin _has_ cut holes in Mordred’s socks, but that’s besides the point.)

The point is, that Gwen doesn’t remember coming up the mountain, so she wouldn’t know Merlin should have been there. Arthur was probably just _so relieved_ to have the real Gwen back that he didn’t notice or bother to check if he had everyone he came with. But by all accounts Mordred should and would have noticed. Mordred could deny it, of course, but the fact remains that Mordred is a knight of Camelot (a job in which it is very important to be observant- a source of much hysterical laughter from Merlin, as Arthur couldn’t be any more oblivious if he tried), and he knew Merlin should have been there, yet he didn’t say anything. And combined with Merlin’s (very obvious) attitude towards Mordred, that is going to invite some very uncomfortable questions. Not okay.

Merlin growls in frustration, and his stomach growls right back. 

Well, that’s a problem he can solve.

He throws open the door to his bedroom, wincing at the sunlight streaming through the windows of Gaius's chambers. The… afternoon sunlight. His stomach swoops. Arthur’s arrival appears closer than he thought.

Gaius looks up from the notes he’s carefully copying on his workbench to see Merlin standing there, blinking in the light. “Ah, I’m glad to see you awake, Merlin. Perhaps you can tell me what happened yesterday. Lunch?” 

Merlin nods silently and sits at the table, giving Gaius a weak smile when he sets today’s variation of the usual chicken and vegetables down in front of him.

“How long was I asleep,” Merlin asks, his mouth full. Gaius’s eyebrow twitches.

“Well, it’s just past midday, so about eighteen hours. I daresay you needed it, Merlin. You have much resting on your shoulders for someone so young.” Gaius’s voice is soft as he looks at his charge. “If I may, what happened on your journey? You didn’t seem in a fit state to explain yesterday, but if I am to help you fix the mess that you've no doubt made, I must know,”

For the next half hour or so, Merlin explains the events of the days prior. He stutters a bit at his (foolish in hindsight- but it was foolish at the time too, wasn’t it) decision to let Arthur leave without him. Gaius’s eyebrow miraculously stays where it is throughout his whole story, a look of concern and understanding etched into the deep lines on his face.

Finishing his tale, Merlin swallows and looks down at his plate. “I’m… sorry I left Arthur yesterday. I know it wasn’t right. He just… sometimes he makes it so hard to protect him on top of all of the other thankless jobs I do for him.”

“No need to apologise Merlin. I should have seen how much you were struggling. Truthfully, something like this is a long time coming. You carry so much, sometimes I wonder if this destiny is truly worth the cost,” Gaius says quietly, gazing across the table to where Merlin sits, shoveling food into his mouth.

Merlin hesitates. “I believe it is.”

Gaius nods, as if that's what he expected Merlin to say, and then opens his mouth to say something (probably something profound and insightful, like: “You don't have to clean the leech tank anymore Merlin. I can see you're dealing with a lot.” Well. Maybe not, but a man can dream.)-- when he is interrupted by the door to Gaius’s chambers banging open. 

Distantly, Merlin registers Gaius’s protests about the treatment of his door, but he is too preoccupied by the sight of Mordred (looking tired) and Gwen (looking dead on her feet) to really care about the state of Gaius’s hinges. (Though he just _knows_ he’s going to be the one to fix them if they break.) 

His stomach swoops and he can barely hear anything over the rush of _Arthur, Arthur, where's Arthur_ in his head.

“Gaius,” Mordred helps Gwen sit on the cot Gaius keeps for his patients, no trace of the fatigue so evident in his face found in his voice, “Her majesty seems to be fully recovered from her… illness, but the King still wanted you to examine her.”

Merlin is desperately avoiding both Gaius’s and Mordred’s gazes, but he can still feel their eyes on him. He focuses harder on the plate in front of him. Gaius really should invest in better dishes, this is chipped in three places, and there's a rather suspicious looking crack that--

“And where is said King?” Gaius’s voice cuts through his musings about the state of the dishware in this kingdom, and he knows Gaius is asking because he hasn’t. Because he _can’t_.

He can still feel the eyes of everyone in the room (minus Gwen, who seems to have fallen asleep rather than watch this drama unfold- _she always was full of good ideas_ , Merlin thinks half hysterically, wishing he could fall join her in unconsciousness, rather than deal with this waking nightmare) and he hesitantly looks up from his plate to meet Gaius’s soft stare.

“He’s looking for Merlin. Seems he _mysteriously_ disappeared without a trace.” Nothing in Mordred’s face betrays that he is anything less than politely bored (and completely exhausted), but his voice is just _dripping_ with sarcasm. Kilgharrah was right, he should have gotten rid of Mordred’s smart-ass a long time ago. He’s clearly evil. 

Merlin catches himself beginning to fantasize about all the ways he could have discreetly thrown Mordred out of a window or something, back when he was still fun-sized, and puts a stop to that train of thought before he loses the thread of the conversation completely.

It’s definitely time to fix this disaster. And _not_ because of the amused look Mordred is sending him. (Only _partly_ because of that. But _dammit_ Mordred needs to be _scared_ of him if he’s going to stop him from killing Arthur. And he’s not looking very scared right now.) 

So Merlin sighs, regrets every life choice he has ever made, and takes his first step in mopping up this colossal mess. “Where is Arthur looking for me? Will he be back soon?”

“He turned around when we were halfway down the mountain when he tried to yell at you for water and realized you were missing,” Mordred begins, ignoring the snort Merlin makes at the statement, “He told me to bring Queen Guinevere back to Gaius, and that he’d follow us once he retrieved his ‘useless manservant’ from the Dolma. As I’m talking to you, I assume he did not find you with ‘the Dolma.’”

Merlin stands up, walks two steps towards the door, and realizes he has no way of finding Arthur. His stomach swoops again as he realizes there's nothing he can do. 

“I don’t know how you would possibly find him Merlin. I suppose that you will just have to wait for his return,” Gaius says, the look on his face sympathetic, “In the meantime, however, you should resume your regular duties. I happen to know that Arthur’s chambers are filthy. And if you aren’t keen to begin your work there, my leech tank is in desperate need of a good cleaning.”

Merlin grimaces at Gaius’s back as he turns to examine Gwen’s motionless form. Well, at least he won’t have to go a full interrogation with a very angry Arthur (and isn’t he just _so_ attractive when he’s frustrated, that tense jaw and those narrowed eyes and- Merlin could go on but he really doesn’t want to get distracted by thatright now in front of his almost-father and his sworn enemy).

But speaking of an interrogation, he needs to ask-

“Did Arthur ask why you didn’t say anything,” Merlin asks, turning to Mordred.

Mordred shakes his head. “He barely acknowledged me. Like I said, he just made sure Queen Guinevere was alright and told me to escort her back to Gaius,” he turns to leave, but briefly glances over his shoulder. “You looked fantastic in the dress, by the way. Black really is your color.”

One of these days Mordred is going to have a little _training accident_ , Merlin swears to the Triple Goddess herself.

…

The next day, Gwen finds Merlin in the laundry, catching up on washing the avalanche of Arthur’s dirty clothes that seems to have come out of nowhere. (Well. Not _nowhere_ per say, but really Merlin can’t be expected to keep up with _laundry_ on top of, you know. Saving Arthur’s life. Regularly.)

“Hello, Merlin,” she says, settling next to him on the floor with unnatural grace. It’s almost impossible to tell she wasn’t born noble, but Merlin supposes she’s always carried herself like a lady. She’s taken to this whole Queen business like a fish to water, and her steady hand has helped the kingdom flourish.

Merlin smiles at her, dunking the shirt he’s washing (dark blue, one of his favorites- Arthur looks amazing in dark colors, Merlin thinks he doesn’t wear them nearly often enough) into the basin. ”Hey Gwen. How are you feeling?” 

“Much better, thank you,” Gwen bites her lip, her brows furrowing, “Er… I wanted to say… That is, I don’t remember much of what happened while I was… Well, you know. But I asked Gaius to tell me what I missed and I- Oh Merlin, I’m so sorry!”

She flings her arms around his shoulders, and he hesitates a moment, before patting her head awkwardly. 

“No Gwen, you don’t have to apologize! It wasn’t you, I know that,” Merlin says soothingly, pulling back from their hug to look into her eyes. “You’re the kindest person I know. There's nothing to forgive, I know all of… _that_ was Morgana’s influence.”

She sniffs. “I know it wasn’t my fault I just… I never want to cause you harm Merlin. You _or_ Arthur. You’re my best friends, and I can’t stand the thought of hurting you.”

She pulls back and arranges her skirts, wipes her eyes, and smooths her hair, looking perfectly lovely even with wet eyes and tear stained cheeks. 

“And we don’t get to spend as much time together anymore, I just don’t want to lose your friendship,” she continues, “I just wanted to make sure… we’re still good?” 

Merlin grins (genuinely- he can’t even help it) for the first time in days (weeks maybe) and nods enthusiastically. “Of course we are. And if you want to spend time together, you just need to find time in between, you know, ruling the kingdom as the greatest queen Camelot has ever seen, and wooing Lancelot,” he wiggles his eyebrows at her, earning a shove.

Her cheeks darken and she giggles. “I’m not wooing Lancelot… I’m just giving him the nudge that he needs to know I’m interested.”

Merlin laughs, nodding and turning back to the pile (mountain) of laundry that he’s supposed to be doing and grabbing a pair of trousers (one of Merlin’s favorites on Arthur, very tight) to begin washing them. “He’s too noble for his own good. He does now that you and Arthur aren’t… you know. In love? Married in the traditional ‘produce an heir’ way?”

“I’m not entirely sure. I think he does, but we haven't had a conversation about it,” seeing Merlin’s raised eyebrow, she scoffs and grins at him, “I’ll talk to him when he gets back to Camelot, I swear it. And don’t act like you have the moral high ground here Merlin, you and Arthur have been dancing around each other so long it’s making me dizzy. 

“And speaking of my husband… are you going to explain why our noble King is somewhere out in the woods looking for the man who is currently sitting next to me?”

He should’ve known Gwen wasn’t going to let him off the hook. 

“Ah… er, well it's… complicated?” 

Gwen’s calm eyes meet Merlin’s own guilty stare and he sighs.

“I mean, it’s really my fault. Basically, I was taken as... insurance? There was this witch who helped you get back to being… not an evil Morgana puppet. You know how it is. Er. Anyway I- I mean, she took me as, ah… a hostage? But she let me go. But I guess I er… got let go before Arthur came to look for me? And I took another way down the mountain. So I got back here really quickly. Erm. Yeah.”

“Merlin you’re practically washing a hole in that shirt,” Gwen says, placing a gentle hand on the arm that is, in fact, scrubbing this particular shirt hard enough to tear it. (Honestly, it would be no loss, in Merlin’s opinion. It’s the white shirt Arthur wears to sleep sometimes- and Merlin much prefers when Arthur wears no shirt at all. Merlin might just have to make this shirt mysteriously disappear one of these days…)

Merlin sighs and sets the (stupid) shirt aside to dry, picking up some of Arthur’s smallclothes (no comment- he keeps his mind carefully blank when he washes these) and dunking them in the basin.

“Sorry. I just feel bad I’m...” he gestures vaguely, “Here safe in Camelot while he’s out looking for me. Possibly in danger. _Probably_ in danger. The clotpole can’t even put on his own armour-”

Gwen cuts him off, likely sensing a rant coming (he _was_ about to start ranting, but he can't help it- it’s a coping mechanism at this point). “Merlin, you have to trust him. He’s the best knight Camelot has, and when he doesn’t find you in the mountains, he’ll come here next. He won’t be gone another two days, I promise.”

Gwen’s warm, dark eyes are sparkling- she’s about to make fun of him he can feel it-

“It’s just like those stories: you’re the princess waiting for her true love to return! How romantic,” Gwen giggles, breaking out into a musical laugh when Merlin flicks water at her.

She stays with him, sitting there on the floor as he works his way through Arthur’s laundry basket, the two of them gossiping and laughing just like the old days.

Merlin hasn’t realized how much he's missed this.

…

Arthur does eventually get back. (Merlin can’t avoid the inevitable forever, even with all his magic.)

It’s been two days since Gwen and Mordred came crashing through Gaius’s door, and Merlin is doing his best not to say _damn it all_ and go out looking for Arthur. He finds the less he thinks about his dollophead of a best friend-slash-purpose-in-life, the less his stomach aches in that nervous guilty way, and the less he gets crazy impulses like ' _track down Arthur using magic and go after him_.’ (Gaius has been lenient with him lately, but that kind of half-baked plan would give him incentive to speedrun Merlin straight to leech tank hell. So avoiding thoughts of Arthur it is.)

It’s his endless quest for distraction that has him cleaning the spiderwebs out from under Arthur's bed when said King arrives back in Camelot. He shouldn’t even be awake at this time- night fell hours ago- but he’s finding it hard to sleep. He keeps imagining all the trouble Arthur is getting into without him.

He’s too busy wrinkling his nose at what looks like- _is that a dead rat? He can’t quite tell by candlelight... Best not to question it_ \- to hear the sound of hooves on the cobblestones of the courtyard.

And he’s too busy screaming when something brushes across his nose (it’s _dark_ under Arthur’s bed, and he’s seen some unforgettable things in his time in Camelot- some sort of magical monstrous spider wouldn’t be quite so out of the ordinary) to hear a servant offering to Arthur:

“I’ll bring some water up to your quarters, shall I? Merlin is still up there, he can prepare you a bath.”

And he’s not exactly in viewing range of the courtyard, so he doesn’t see Arthur’s face fall into a look of pure relief at the sound of his name. He couldn’t possibly see Arthur turn and sprint into the castle, up the stairs and down the corridors-

But credit where credit is due: he does hear the doors to Arthur’s chambers slam open. That would be hard to miss.

Before he can register the sound, a strong grip on his ankles has him sliding out from under the bed and into the firelight of the room.

Rolling over and rubbing his eyes (from the dust or the light, he's not sure), Merlin opens his mouth to grumble at whoever just _violently dragged him across a stone floor_ -

And he’s crushed into a hug- well more of a tackle with friendly intent, but what else can you expect from Arthur, who was practically raised by knights.

“Wha-? Arthur? Umph, get off...You’re so heavy--” 

Not exactly what he wanted to say to Arthur (especially not the _first_ thing- and no he will not admit to having planned what he wanted to say), but really, he can’t breathe like this (and not only because his ribcage is being crushed). Arthur just chokes out what sounds like a sob mixed with a laugh and squeezes Merlin tighter.

“Are you calling me fat?” His voice is muffled by Merlin’s shoulder.

“If the shoe fits… and it probably doesn’t, what with your big feet,” Merlin huffs, easily falling into their usual banter.

A moment later Arthur releases him and sits back to look him in the face. He’s gripping Merlin’s shoulders tight enough to hurt, but Merlin can’t bring himself to care.

“Gods, I thought- I thought something had happened to- I thought you were gone, Merlin.”

Merlin has… no idea how to respond. So he just pulls Arthur back in for another hug. (He seems to be allowed to. And Arthur is hugging back… what a day.)

“I.. How did you get back here? When I went back to the lake there was no trace of you or that- that Dolma woman,” Arthur has retreated from the hug again and he’s staring at Merlin with wet eyes, like it would kill him to look away, to stop drinking in the sight of Merlin, alive and well and within arm’s reach.

After a few beats of silence, Merlin realizes he should probably answer.

“Oh. Erm, well she eventually just let me go, I guess. She... uh, she told me about a faster way to get back here. Different way down the mountain. I didn’t want to run into Morgana so I figured it was a good idea... 

“She said you forgot me,” he adds, because okay, _yeah_ , he’s still a little bitter. 

Arthur winces and rubs the back of his neck. “Ah. Right, I have a confession. I don’t know how to say this, exactly,” he pauses, and Merlin takes a breath and waits for whatever sad excuse Arthur has for breaking his heart yet again.

Arthur takes a deep breath, looking at his lap. “I- I know about your magic. And I know that the Dolma was you.”

And whatever it was that Merlin may have been expecting, it isn’t _that_. Every thought in his head screeches to a dead stop and leaves Merlin floundering for a response, like a fish pulled suddenly from the water. Somewhere in the back of his head, he’s detachedly aware that this isn’t really an answer to his question, and that they’ve gone more than a bit off topic. But. He has slightly bigger concerns.

He hears a sort of choked sound coming out of his mouth, and suddenly he feels _trapped_. He fights to untangle himself from Arthur’s grasp and scramble away, but Arthur’s clearly having none of it.

Arthur’s hands remain firm and steady on his biceps. “Look Merlin, I know I should have said something. I was just… I wanted to wait for you to tell me yourself. I’m not mad- not about the magic, I promise. Just-” he squeezes Merlin's arms and sighs, “just let me explain, okay? Do you think you can handle being quiet for once?”

Merlin yanks his arms out of Arthur’s grip, but stays where he is. In a daze, he nods, distantly aware of Arthur helping him stand up and leading him to the bed. They sit on the edge of the mattress together and Arthur sighs.

Merlin knows he just agreed to shut up and just listen but it wouldn't be the first time he disobeyed Arthur’s wishes. “How… how long have you known about my- my- er…”

“Magic,” Arthur gently finishes his sentence and Merlin nods. “Since the battle in Ealdor.”

Merlin feels all of the blood drain from his face and he just- he can’t. _Years. Arthur has known for_ years _and Merlin is still_ alive _and-_

Arthur gives Merlin a _look_. “To be fair, you actually had your arm stretched towards the _magical windstorm_. I told you then- I know magic when I see it. Gods, Merlin. All those years barely concealing your magic with my _father_ in the castle. I honestly don’t know how you’ve survived this long, you absolute buffoon,” he shakes his head with a small grin.

Merlin, who has not been actively participating in this conversation due to the fact that his _worldview has just been shattered_ , finds it easier to respond now that Arthur has fallen back into their usual banter.

“I- Why _am_ I alive? Why didn’t you just kill me then? When you first found out? From what I could tell, you were convinced magic was evil back then- but then again, _from what I could tell_ , you would have executed me last week if you had learned of my Magic,” he half-laughs, ruffling his hair. It’s not funny- none of this is- but he’s finding it hard to control the roiling emotions inside of him. He can either laugh or scream. And he knows screaming isn’t going to do him any good.

At his words, a shadow passes over Arthur’s eyes.

“No one is going to execute you, Merlin. No one will harm you, as long as I live,” Arthur says, his mood turning gravely serious, and Merlin has to look away. 

Because this- this contradicts every instinct that has kept him alive for years. It’s not that he believed Arthur would hurt him- well, no, he did. Arthur is a man with a strong sense of loyalty to his kingdom and the principles he lives by, and should Merlin appear as a threat to either of those things- well, up until a few moments ago, Merlin wasn’t sure that there would be any doubt in Arthur’s mind whether or not he should kill Merlin to protect the land he has sworn to serve.

But that look on Arthur’s face when Merlin suggested that he might have been executed for his magic (brows furrowed, eyes dark- an anger he usually reserved for the worst of men) shakes him to his core. Just how much of Arthur (the real Arthur, the one who apparently will allow no harm to come to his worthless manservant) has he missed over the years, hidden behind banter and unseen despite their easy camaraderie.

Merlin looks back up at the man in front of him and _aches_. Just when he thought he couldn’t fall any further… 

Arthur continues speaking in that easy, teasing tone, as though he wasn't just looking at Merlin like he was the most important thing in the world (typical- the prat couldn’t handle an emotion on a _good_ day). “To answer your question, though, at the time, when your friend took the blame I wasn’t going to call him out on it. And I wasn’t quite certain he was lying. But I watched you when we got back to Camelot. Within the first week I caught you doing magic no less than _thirteen times_. Again, how you still think it's a secret is a mystery to me.

“Anyway, I was angry at first, of course, but… Your friend was willing to have been arrested for you… he was willing to throw away his life for you by telling the King’s son he was a sorcerer. Not to mention, you’d been loyal to me, more loyal than some of my knights. Gueneviere and… and Morgana trusted you, too. 

“Oh, and I’d followed you into the woods- during that first week after Ealdor- because I thought you were plotting, or doing something sinister, and I saw you try to use magic to gather herbs… You got hit in the face with more than a bit of dirt,” he laughs at the memory. “Anyway, I decided you weren’t a threat and haven't worried about it since.”

Merlin can’t decide whether to be horrified that his “secret” has been so obvious for so long or pissed that Arthur has known about his magic for years ( _years!_ ) and still thinks of him like a useless fool. Part of him is deeply offended that he isn’t considered a threat- he’s the most powerful warlock ever to walk the earth (if Kilgharrah is to be believed), and he has no doubt he could do serious harm if the need ever arose.

He settles on a mixture of anger and horror, and it must show on his face, because Arthur looks away, embarrassed. 

“I’m sorry I didn’t tell you. You just- you get so flighty whenever I brought up magic. I assumed you weren’t ready… I was willing to wait for you to come to me yourself. And you're upset, so I know I probably shouldn’t say this, but... It was just too funny. Your poor excuses, hearing Gaius yell at you- quite loudly- that nobody can know about your magic,” Arthur laughs, “the Dolma character was great. You wore a dress! And did a voice!”

The mirth on Arthur’s face fades into a look of guilt.

“I didn’t forget you, _Mer_ lin. I was just on the high of having Gwen back, I thought I’d tease you… I expected you to stop me. Or come after us. I didn’t- I’m sorry. Gods, when I came back and you were gone…”

Merlin is angry. He’s mad. He’s not melting at the distress on Arthur’s face. He’s not.

Arthur looks so _heartfelt_ , though.

Merlin sighs. He’s so far gone on this man it’s just getting ridiculous. (As if it hasn’t been ridiculous for years now.)

“Do you know how much I’ve sacrificed? How many times I’ve saved your life?”

Arthur puts a hand on his shoulder. “I can’t say that I do. But I want to understand, Merlin- I want to understand you. I want you to trust me.”

Once again, Merlin finds it very hard to look at Arthur. 

“It was all for you, Arthur. My magic, it’s only ever been for you. But I- that still doesn’t change the fact that I lied to you for… _so_ long. I can’t imagine that you can trust _me_ …”

The hand that has been resting on his shoulder slides down his arm and entwines with his own. The feeling makes Merlin’s heart swell. Arthur is being… weirdly gentle. Soft, even.

“Merlin, I know why you did it. I don’t _love_ the thought that you lied to me for years, and it kills me that you didn’t feel like you could trust me. That you thought- you thought I’d kill you. But I understand. And I can’t be mad- not after you’ve done so much for me,” Arthur smiles. “Even if you are a total clot-pole.”

“Still my word.”

“Still suits you perfectly.”

They sit there for a moment, grinning at each other like idiots. 

Then Arthur decides to hit Merlin with a question he's been dreading, because he’s a prat like that. “Why didn’t you say anything?”

At Merlin’s blank look, Arthur raises an eyebrow. “When I left the mountain without you? For a moment I thought you might, but… you just let me go. And I know you’re a good enough liar to have brought it up in a natural way.”

“Ah. I guess I… I wanted to see if you’d even notice I was gone… it’s stupid, I know. In my defense, I had just done some rather complex m-magic,” he stumbles on the word, unused to this freedom to just. Say what he can do. What he has done.

“Well _Mer_ lin, I guarantee that, had I not known it was you under all that grey hair and saggy skin, I would certainly have noticed you were gone. I’m not a _complete_ fool,” he looks at Merlinin a way that silently adds ‘ _unlike you._ ’ “I really did think you’d follow us. When I realized you weren’t coming...” he trails off and clears his throat.

Merlin looks up at Arthur through his lashes. “You were out looking for a long time.”

“I was worried that maybe you’d fallen again, you clumsy oaf. Or gotten yourself kill- kidnapped by my sister. Or gotten completely lost,” Arthur runs his thumb over the back of Merlin’s hand. “I was so worried. If anything were to happen to you Merlin- well, I’d have to train a new servant.”

“Well, we wouldn’t want that, Sire.”

“No,” Arthur has that soft look on his face again, and his eyes look nearly black in the dim light. “No, we wouldn’t.”

And looking into those eyes, with years of secrets laid bare between them, Merlin can’t help himself.

He asks it (whispers it- even with all his impulsiveness, he can’t bring himself to say it louder than a whisper) without thinking. “Can I kiss you?”

Arthur’s response is a resounding _yes_ \- in the form of half tackling his manservant to the bed with what is probably the least graceful kiss Merlin has experienced in his life. That doesn't stop it from being the best.

Arthur’s lips are soft against his, and it’s better that Merlin has even dared to dream- although he has dreamed about this. Often.

He runs his hands over the powerful muscles of Arthur’s arms, his back, threads them into his golden hair, and his heart feels like it will explode with the strength of the feelings whirling through him. Gods, he loves this man.

He says as much, between increasingly frantic kisses, and Arthur goes tense and pulls back to look him in the eyes. They’re both flushed and panting, and Arthur looks completely _wrecked_.

“I love you too, you idiot,” he murmurs, and it’s just the most _Arthur_ love confession that Merlin can’t help laughing, before pulling Arthur in for another kiss.

They shift away from the edge of the bed, rather awkwardly since neither care much to part for longer than it takes to catch their breaths, but eventually they make it to the top of the bed. Arthur lost his shirt somewhere along the way, and he’s hovering over Merlin, his hot mouth attached to his neck as Merlin squirms beneath him, running his hands over any available skin that he can reach.

Arthur’s hands drift down to caress the curve of Merlin’s waist, and he breaks contact with Merlin’s neck, pulling back to press soft kisses against his open mouth.

Arthur hooks an inquisitive finger through the laces of Merlin’s trousers. “Is this okay?”

Merlin whines and somehow manages to articulate a “ _yes_.”

Yes, this is okay, he thinks, as Arthur’s hand slips between his legs. This is the most okay he’s been in a long time. 

  
Because looking forward to a future with Arthur by his side, with Arthur finally _knowing_ , he allows himself to hope- to hope that everything will be _okay_ in the end.

**Author's Note:**

> i didn't have a beta because i die like Nimueh (in season one, lookng sexy af, and with Maximum Drama) and also this is like 7k so im sure i missed some mistakes and for that i am sorry.
> 
> comments and kudos always appreciated


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